Run After To
Run After To

I've always known that heavy metal is a strange creature. And perhaps it's the mass musical genre that has provided the greatest opportunity for bands outside the Anglo-American axis, which has dominated the so-called popular music market since its inception, to emerge. The musical outskirts of the world have given birth to cult bands, or even mass phenomena. Just think of German speed and power metal, or Norwegian death metal. And Italy? Even Italy, in its small way, has been the birthplace of bands that have crossed national borders to become something else. For example, Death SS, or Vanadium, and more recently Lacuna Coil. However, Italy has also been home to very small entities that have often become cult figures outside of Italian borders.

For instance, I was surprised to discover how appreciated Italian hardcore bands from the nineties like Negazione or Kina are in America. Then, as you delve deeper, there are cult groups about which little or nothing is known. In my roaring '80s, for example, I purchased the vinyl of a debut mini LP by a band released by the legendary Minotauro Records of Pavia, the label that published Paul Chain's records. I was captivated by the beautiful black and very dark cover with the drawing of a sort of church and the fact that the vinyl was advertised in the pages of the specialized magazine HM, which also gave it a decent review in 1988. It's worth mentioning that back then, you didn’t just buy things on Amazon, nor did you place any particular orders at your trusted local shop. The record arrived by chance, a single copy, at the store in my town, and I grabbed it. About 20 minutes of music. Two tracks on side A and a 12-minute mini suite divided into three parts on side B.

The music was metal with a strong dark influence. Well played and very melodic. It opened with “Who Cries for the Children,” a fairly fast and rhythmic piece, followed by the very gloomy “Melancholy.” The suite that occupied side B was titled “My Name is Man” and reached its peak in the third part, which was very climactic and impactful. The three parts that composed this fascinating suite were titled “It Could Be Hell,” with a slow and cadenced start, the melodic and distorted “When Seconds turn to Years,” and the really beautiful and crescendoing finale “The Dream,” very doom with dark synths and well sung with a hypnotic melody. I listened to it for years, knowing very little about it. Just what was known from the scant notes on the back cover. The band was composed of two members, plus a third borrowed from another band. Specifically, Maurizio Cucchiarini on vocals and guitar, and Nicola Nikki White Pucci on bass and synthesizer, with the third member named Fabio Marra, who played drums and came from Heaven Keys, an even more mysterious band. To find out something about them, you have to rely on some obscure forum and some personal memories of those who comment. The group is said to have recorded a 45 rpm, also for Minotauro, titled Lets'go easy/Go your way, tracks described with a sound close to that of Angel, thus a sort of pomp metal. Pesaresi, like Run After To, had started as Tomahawk and were composed of Jeff Martino on vocals, Paul Januars on guitar, Mark Face on bass, and the aforementioned Marra. But this is material for metal nerds. Back to Run After To. On the record, Paul Chain’s production was clearly evident.

The band, as mentioned, hailed from the same city as the ex-Death SS, Pesaro, and had a sound very close to Chain's early works. Stop. To discover something new, one must come to the present day. While searching if perhaps somewhere the MP3s of the vinyl could be downloaded, I discovered that it has been reissued by an American label, Shadow Kingdom Records, which has also included on the CD the tracks from the demo preceding the group's record, titled Gjinn And Djinn and dating back to 1985, along with some other, scant, notes on the band and some photos. The gap between the demo tracks and those on the mini LP is wide, both in production and in sound. Although one of the tracks was already known as it was composed by the band for their producer Paul Chain. This track is “Occultism,” which was included in Detaching from Satan in 1984.

The demo already had a rough version of “Melancholy,” much more raw and without the final solo. The recording is typical of those years, muddled and unprofessional but with a certain charm. Whereas the mini LP is really well recorded. Inside the vinyl, there was a separately printed sheet with drawings following the themes of the cover, which was not reproduced for the CD reissue. The record was supposed to be the prelude to the release of an LP that never hit the shelves. A small story from our varied metal world. Years ago, I also stumbled upon an interview with the singer, in which he recounted the vicissitudes of recording the album and the demo, revealing how they produced the séance sounds that can be heard. Unfortunately, I can't find it online. But you can listen to the whole thing on YouTube.